Chapter: 1

"Serendipitous."

The drizzle. The wind running wild, the drops on my palms, I'm wet all through, yet my heart is still dry. I search my soul, that is yet incomplete, to find a destination, the one that was meant for me. The breeze tastes the rain, so humid, so pure, which part of my existence is real, I am not sure. The end that I bring is something denied, by not just my heart, but also my rebellious side. My lips are silenced, by that one word, I shall forge my own path, not follow the herd. My soul still waiting, wrapped up in pain, for that one moment, when I shall, find, harmony in the eye of the hurricane.

Midnight. The creator, the slayer. The initiator, the terminator. The end that meets the blade, the start that touches it ever so slightly. The time that marks the end of the path, but the start that forges its own.

Midnight. The enchanted word, magical. Just once said raises belief in the surreal, non-existent. Yet, where it holds magic, it also holds catastrophe. The time where dreams end, hearts break, the depressed lose hope, the dark acquires its complete reign.

It was a similar night, when it all was written to be, portrayed and carried out by destiny. The haunted night, that tore a soul, broke a heart, took a life. It was the blade, that pierced right through, the flesh, the blood. The voice was merely a whisper, just a blame, demanding reason for betrayal, for pain. The dark's dominion was yet to come, for what was conquered, was not enough.

They were flashes, mere echoes, yet only one was the clearest in my memory, the sight of a woman, staring, accusingly, at me. My will already broken, crumpled like sand, as I watched this sight, with blood on my hands.

September, the month. The nine to the twelve, the three less than the dozen. The cold, the frozen. The blow to the chill, the crack to the ice, the flap to the wing, the tick, to the clock. This month, with its particular windy chills and teeth-shattering shower, was considered the most notorious, or what I liked to call it, not serendipitous in the least way. It was the death of nature, the funeral of broken dreams, the revival of oppression and the burial of hope.

It was all that, and more, not just because it was the high school starting month, end of vacations, and when the homework assignments were due, but because it was the particular Zoldyck month. The reaper month, the murderer, the month of the Zoldyck's sovereign, the scythe to the throat of the innocent.

It wasn't just one of those myths you read at the end of the entertainment section of the newspaper, this month with its grey and misty outlook was the pure definition of fear. It was that particular blow that made the flame shiver ever so slightly, yet it was enough to be remembered and avoided. The month that kept you on your guard, the one that casted its shadow on the hearts, forcing the doors to be shut.

Not assumption, but belief. Nearly five years ago, the ten dons were discreetly and secretively murdered, right in the heart of their base, exactly at the most critical time of the annual auction. Needles so brutally, yet in a highly artistic manner were sunk in their flesh, no blood, yet so much foul, chaos, destruction and tragedy, on this very month. Arterius, the capital, the heart and soul of the Gorteau, victim of not murder but massacre, innocent lives not slayed, beheaded, four years ago, on this very month. Toshiro Inazami, grade eleven member of JCI, not killed, assassinated, not in his apartment, not in some deserted street, right in the middle of a national interview, surrounded by his security officers, three years ago, on this very month. Delegates of the independence committee, not executed, eliminated, two years ago, on this very month. Mafia leaders of padokian states, not erased in an extermination, in a bloodshed, one year ago, on this very month.

Culprit? Responsible? Master mind? All them. The Zoldycks. The world's most notorious assassins. Any job no one else could get done, they were called in. Wanted to hire professionals, they were called in. Someone to assure at all costs the execution of the mission, they were called in. Regardless my hate for violence, I couldn't but, if not more, feel admiration towards them, towards their work. How they carried themselves. They killed for a living, and where that was repulsive, it was reality, it was life. Everybody killed for a living, it was just illustrated in different ways. Some stole, some cheated, some black mailed and others lied. In other words, everybody killed, their character, their conscience, themselves, all for a living.

This year was just like any other, with its mysterious and dark outlines, the grey, almost smoky clouds, predicted no good. I took a deep breath and escorted my new rubber boots, which squeaked after regular intervals, rubbing with each other, on the uneven and cracked sidewalk. Eventually I would hear a splash, as the muddy puddles swallowed up my feet, and as they emerged back up, the bottom hems of my jeans felt wet and soaked. Which was, if not anything else, quite refreshing. I glanced once at the sky, the light rays, even though dim, peeked from behind the ominous looking grey blanket of fluff and along with the tiny raindrops, pricked my eyes.

Claire Gaspardo. 17. Haemophobic. Vexatious, annoying and socially awkward. Also very probably falling in the category of nerd, but without the glasses and braces. That's how I'd describe myself, that's who I was.

I buried my hands in the pockets of my jacket, the collar of which was covering about half of my face. My exhales were visible, as they condensed, twisted and took off. I slightly shivered as I walked on, shaking off a bit of excitement, the cold weather made me feel energetic. That's how autumns always were in Noda, the little city, somewhat located in a very very southern side of Eastern Padokia, cold. Population, about 155,644. Not too crowded, not deserted, just perfect, just home.

I took a few more paces and spun around, the automatic doors of the supermarket opened, throwing a gust of warm and stale air right at me. I hurried in, and rubbed my hands together, I wasn't cold, that was just an old habit. Right at one corner, I grabbed a basket from a little column and went through the grocery list once again. I had all the necessary items in about ten minutes, which was just about as long as I was willing to give. I strode though the shelves right to the end, when something in my peripheral vision made me stop. I took a few steps back and smiled at my luck. Right in one corner of the candy section, there it was, the last box of chocolate balls. Without another thought I put my fingers around the little pack and lifted it up. It belonged in my basket, and soon in my stomach, that was it's destiny. I went with the beat in my ears, giddy of my accomplishment. One second it was in my hand, and in the next long, pale fingers were on it.

I looked up at once. A silver-haired boy throwing a murderous glare at me with his sapphire-blue eyes. I pulled out my headphones from my ears. "What's your deal?", I said pulling the box towards me.

"My deal," he said snatching the box from my hand. "Is that these are mine."

"Hey, I saw them first," I said grabbing the box.

"Do they have your name written on them, or does your daddy own the store?"

"It will be written in your blood if you don't let go."

"Hah, look whose talking, the dwarf from cinderella."

"It's snow white, Einstein."

"Couldn't care less, Rambo."

"Lunatic."

"Nutjob."

"Psychopath."

"Screwball."

"Meshuggener."

"Headbanger," he seized the little wrap and raised it to a height which was above my reach

I jumped up once and then twice, but every time he would just lift it higher. "Hey! Let go, give that to me!"

"Nope," he said, making a popping sound at the 'P', which made it even more annoying.

I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. "Ever heard of the saying finders keepers?"

He smirked. "Losers weepers."

I gasped. "You... you... jerk!" I said anger pulsing though me. Why the hell did males have to be so damn tall? I spun around to the cash counter and rubbed my eyes twice to stop the tears, which were beginning to from, from falling.

The doors parted once again and a fresh breeze washed my face. I passed a hand through my hair and welcomed the tiny drops that dissolved on my skin, as I let them filter my brain, and somewhere in the middle of that my anger managed to evaporate.

As I faced the familiar maple wooden door, with the classic golden glossy handle, I slid the grocery bag from my elbow to my hand and holding my gloves under my chin, I pulled out the keys and unlocked the door.

I strode to the kitchen and left the bag on the counter.

"Claire is that you?"

"No, Rocky Balboa, mom," I said emptying the shopper on the island.

My mom. The classic blonde with blue eyes and a champagne obsession. Also my best friend. She rolled her eyes, she was like a teenager in the body of a thirty year old. She took the milk carton and the eggs and opened the refrigerator with her heel. "Your friend Nora called, I told her you'd call her back, and why did you leave your cell phone at home?"

I sighed. "Mom. I have reasons, she's been bugging me all morning asking me if we need both a compass and a protractor."

She raised her eyebrows. "What did you tell her?"

"To get a life," I said as I turned the basin on to wash my hands.

She giggled. "As a mother, it's my duty to say that that was mean and you should call your friend and apologize."

"But as my pal," I said as I dried my hand with the kitchen towel. "You're just gonna laugh it off and ask me to write these down for you."

She chuckled. "Your father was asking for you."

"Okay," I said as I got out of the kitchen.

"In the study."

I went through the Tv lounge turning of the tv as I went. I took my boots off and threw them on the shoe rack in the corridor and gave three quick raps on the door or the study room, opening it. The knocks were just a formality.

"Honey," my dad smiled. His two dimples coming to life, which made him look twenty years younger than he was. He was the classic Peter Parker looking like father, which black messy hair and glasses.

"Daddy."

He extended his hand out and took mine pulling me forward and kissing me lightly on the cheek, before I sat down on the little club chair at the side of his desk.

"So, college tomorrow, eh?"

"Yeah."

"I presume you've done your homework."

"Yes, about a month ago."

He nodded. "Okay, well since you're always doing your assignment and projects, and you do always fine in school, is there anything you need a parent lecture on?" he asked smiling.

I chuckled. "I.. um... oh, yeah, I just threw my dirty boots, on the shoe rack, without cleaning them."

"That's awful, yes you shouldn't do such things, it's wrong."

"I know, they're really muddy and yesterday, I didn't even make my bed," I informed him.

"You're in trouble missy," he said raising his finger, his voice disappointed.

I sighed. "I'm sorry dad, I know how much you and mom wanna say, you're grounded or no allowance for a month, but... if you want you can do that you, I'd totally be fine with that."

He laughed enthusiastically. "Troubles of having an ideal daughter."

I shrugged and smiled.

His expression turned a bit serious and he took my hands. "Look honey, I know you're satisfied with not having a social life and spending your time studying, but... I want."

"We," my mom corrected as she stood there leaning against the frame of the door.

My dad nodded with a smile. "We, want you to be... a teenager now, go out with your friends and sometimes come late at night and chat with your girlfriends on the phone and give yourself manicures, go shopping and do stuff..." he said guiltily.

I raised my eyebrows. "Unbelievable," I gasped. "You must be the first parents on the planet saying this.", I said shaking my head. "So, basically, you're asking me to try to get into trouble?"

My mom walked to the desk putting both of her hand's on my dad's shoulders. "Well if saying it that way, will make it work, then... yes?" she said as she looked at him.

He nodded, their expressions pleading.

I raised my hands in defeat. "Fine, from now on I'm all trouble and for starters, I'm not gonna do the dishes tonight, know why?"

She shrugged and he lightly shook his head.

I curled my fingers imitating cat claws. "'Cause I'm bad," I said in a whisper.

They both rolled their eyes and all three of us burst out laughing.

My parents. Hachiro and Hana Ajibana. More like my buds, my bros. They were one of those ideal couples people only saw on tv. Married for ten years, yet the heat was still on. Since they were the tv screen perfect parents and couple, and according to them I was the ideal, flawless daughter, we had that family entertainment agenda, like movies and games night.

As I saw it, being a parent was one of the hardest things in the world. Being worried if your daughter is on drugs and sleeps with boys, and still being worried even if she's a social outcast and nerd.

"So... I'll be going to bed," I said glancing at the clock, which indicated it was just eight-thirty.

They both threw accusing looks at me.

"I mean, not like going to sleep... that-that was full time lie, because I'll be doing... ummm... bad stuff," I sighed. "Good night mom, dad.", I said blowing them a kiss.

"Good night honey," they both said in unison.

I spun around heading for the stairs. All I had left for the night was to deal my fucking mind and the nightmares that had been haunting me for almost seven years now. Being saint-like wasn't a choice for me, it was all I had been working for to make up for all that I had done throughout my existence, being exemplary, wasn't an option, it was a necessity.

"Claire, honey. I know this must be hard for you. I remember when it was my first day in college, I was so scared and... but you, you're gonna do just fine. You need to get out there and show them what you're made of, and if there is anything.."

"Mom."

"And I mean absolutely anything you want to tell me and share with me, I promise honey, I'll be..."

"Mom."

"Here for you, and those college bullies, they're not real, so what if you're a bit younger than your other class fellows, being an honour's student is... an honour! You are..."

"Mom!"

"Yes?"

I sighed. "I'm not scared of school, and this is my first day of my second year in college mom, and I'm getting late," I said my hand placed impatiently on the handle of the car door.

"Right. I'm sorry," she lightly rubbed her temples. "Pick you up at two-thirty?"

"Yeah," I quickly pecked her on the cheek and got out, sliding my bag on my shoulder.

Noda Vyck High. Not just a high school, but more like the high school. In the sense that it was the only high school in the city, no comparison, no competition. A total of about 7000 students. Rookies, bullies, hotties, football captains, cheerleaders, nerds, chess clubs, we had 'em all. It was the exact school you see in movies. That was exactly why I knew I could never fit in, I was more... materialistic, more me.

I tossed my mom one last wave as I saw her car fade into the foggy road, before I could walk on to add another piece of hell to the vapid book of my survival, or simply life.

The halls, even more crowded than last year. I bumped my way through, glancing at the number tags on the lockers and finally sighing out of relief when I found mine. Getting it to open, that was completely another story.

After dropping my books twice and earning scary glares due to accidental bumps, I finally managed to find my class. If you ever took my advice, at school you should be a total ninja. Avoid making eye contact with people, because if they know you, they're gonna either squeak and throw a'bunch of lies of how they missed you in the vacations or either glare at you disgustedly and throw some shitty remarks at you, in each case, you'll end up being embarrassed. In that particular category I had two people on the top of my lists, Nora Hagino and Naomi Kamata in the respective cases.

Nora was that talkative, mostly intolerable competitive geek nerd, and not to mention a complete moron who had no experience in reading signs and body language, because if she did, she'd know I didn't like her. With her I always tried my best to illustrate the theme of "Shoo, go away", while Naomi was that typical cheerleader, not bad with the guys, actually a bit too good, definitely not a virgin, mortal enemy. In other words, my school friends and enemies were the kind you only wanted to see at school, not outside.

"Mhmm," that's what I had been saying for the past ten minutes to Nora's unsufferable comments on how the Ozone layers depletion was not properly typified in the current course text books.

That's when I saw him. That boy, from the supermarket. His messy silver hair pointing in every direction, his hands in his pockets, with a look of extreme boredom on his face. Standing right at his side was a black spiky haired boy, his face was comparatively more round and childish. Not did the boy only stand at his side, but he also looked very comfortable there, fast childhood friends, something one could tell at the first glance.

The boy's ocean like blue eyes scanned the area around. They were frozen, and so was the expression they held, dead. Then his gaze met mine, and his eyes lit up, as if out of amusement and his stare was jammed for what seemed to last forever, and as soon as I regained control of my head I quickly looked away. My brain felt weird and fuzzy, like it was sunk in a swarm of buzzing bees.

I didn't look up from my table, not even when the teacher entered. First days are, for lack of a better word, not very productive. The teachers just sit around doing nothing, the class is a complete mess, and when I say mess, I mean the flying paper airplanes and whistle like mess.

I could feel that boy staring a hole into my face. Eventually I would end up holding my breath for what seemed like a very long time without realizing it. Then I would go back to Mhmming Nora and wishing I'd be in my bed with a nice hot cup of coco and a book.

This was one of those perplexing moments when the ticking of the clock was just a bit too loud and the sweat drops on the back of my neck were just a bit too wet. After five whole circuits of waiting for the bell and sighing when it rang, lunch time came.

Without actually slipping, falling, crashing, bumping or collapsing I passed the left corridor and made it to the library. Not where people usually go for lunch, but reading was like glucose for my blood. The library at this time was almost empty, except for the librarian and a few desperate nerds like me, that's why I liked it. Extremely crowded places made me nervous, that's why I never actually ate in the cafeteria, it was too white, that would be, if I had actually ever seen it, excluding that fact that I had visualized it at times in my nightmares.

I went through the shelves stroking gently the covers of the different volumes and opuses, I was a reading maniac, addict, devotee, aficionado, I had some rules for book selection, the covers indicated quality.

Suddenly in the middle of that enquiry, my boot got caught at a bulge on the carpet, making me stumble and crash against something and bounce back. My impact with the ground was interrupted at nano-seconds by two iron gripped appendages that sprung me back up.

My head went numb and I shook off the rush, placing the occurred events in a suitable enough order. "Woah," I said supporting my head with my hand, like it would fall off any second. "Are you..." I stopped at mid sentence when I recognized the figure in front of me. "You.", I said glaring.

He nodded. "Well isn't this serendipitous," he said raising a silver eyebrow.

I freed myself from his hold and pushed him back. "No, no it isn't! It's not serendipitous, it's the opposite of serendipitous, it's unlucky, it's ominous, you're ominous, you're not serendipitous, you can never be serendipitous, you are the insult of serendipity."

"Woah, slow down. How many times did you say that?"

"Say what?"

"Serendipitous."

"Five times."

"Five times?"

I just stared at him.

"Five times in a single sentence?"

"What are you doing here?"

He leaned his elbow casually against one of the shelves and grabbed a book with the other. "Ah, you know, just hunting for elephants."

The jerk thought he was funny. "I could eat a bowl of alphabet soup and shit out a smarter statement than that," I blurted out in anger. I covered my mouth with my hand. "I'm, I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Heavy sarcasm we got there, eh? Rambo."

I took a deep breath and spun around.

"Wait," he called.

I just kept walking. Jerks like him were the reason for the depletion of the ozone layer, that's what the text book had missed. Why waste any breath on him anyway?

He accelerated his pace and caught up with me. "What did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't," I said picking up the pile of books I had left on the table.

He shrugged. "Your loss, I'll just keep calling you Rambo then."

I groaned. "Claire. It's Claire," I said through clenched teeth.

He just kept silent and stared amusingly at my me.

"Excuse me, do I have something written on my face?" I said waving my hands across my face.

"Uhh.. what? No," he said shaking his head. "You just remind me of those miniature soldier action figures they made in the old days, you know, the Rambo ones?"

I sighed and clenched my fists, walking towards the door.

Again he just paced along. "The name's Killua by the way."

I pursed my lips and kept walking. Ignore him, he's not real.

"Aren't you gonna say something?"

"Are you always such an idiot, or just when I'm around?"

He cocked his head a bit. "I suppose I'm a natural."

"Well then, Killua-"

"Hayashi.", he added.

"Yes," I said stopping, "Then I'll be on my way, and you better go on yours, it's a big school, I'm sure you can find a number of other people who are, trust me, twice as entertaining, be on your way now, go on, shoo," I spun around.

"I doubt that, you're like a puppy, you know, poke 'em with a stick and they start their growling and biting, and they look so cute when they try to act like they're all dangerous.", he laughed. "Classic."

I gasped. "You... you jerk!"

He spun around and walked away in the opposite direction. Just before disappearing at the end of the hall he gave a slight wave. "See ya'."

I restlessly shifted on the bed. My head so full of that idiot's babbling. "You're like a puppy, you know, poke 'em with a stick and they start their growling and biting," Motherfucking jerk. I did over-react and I was quite hyperbolic, but whether you're a fashion diva or a tom boy type, a girl's a girl and we have hearts.

It was just this one year, then I could fly to somewhere far away in Alaska for university and dwell in an igloo with polar bears. God just had to put my patience on the test with this jerk, didn't he? Maybe I could get a plastic surgery and change my name, for safety reasons. There's only so much your brain can take before it will crack.

The dim light of the lam flickered in the dark, concentrating it all on that particular lime coloured glow. Very gently I opened the exceedingly ancient cover of the book and pulled out the little scrap of pale, rough paper, stroking it with my finger tips. I knew the words by heart but reading them out every time made me feel potent, powerful.

As the light pours in and clears its path with that one diminished ray

my heart will wait for that one throb when all the guilt will wash away.

My eyelids collided once, then twice, until they shut down for good. My numb brain welcomed the faintness, the vacant, the chaotic peace. The obscure veil on my conscience was heavy on my breath, and from somewhere far far away, I heard that woman scream.